


Crime Dads: Baby comes home.

by theotherdesanta



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Adoption, Crime Dads, Mike is still repressed AF, THE DADS ARE BACK, Trevor doesn't know, Trikey - Freeform, kill me, my heart, surprise, trikey by mention, trikey cus they married, trikey cus trikey, trikey dads, yankton memories.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdesanta/pseuds/theotherdesanta
Summary: Once married to his best friend of almost 30 years all Trevor wanted to complete their little, dysfunctional family was a baby.7 months later and Michael has flown to Boston to pick up their baby daughter without telling his husband of the fact they even have one, Trevor still believing they're on a non-existent waiting list for people wanting to adopt.This story revolves around a headcanon so snippets of the past will/may be pieces the writer has created them-self.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaccccccckkk, yeah, scary, I know but after one hell of an eventful new years my brain decided to distract itself once more with Trevor being an adorable dorky, crazy ass dad and so, with some advice from my life coach (Thank you for putting up with me) i decided to write this three part fic on Michael surprising T with a baby, and yes there will be tears. always is. 
> 
> One little thing I just wanna say right now to everyone is ho-ly-shitnizz. In less than a month Merry-Smutmas has reached over 30 kudos and Writer dabs, is at 60, oh mah lawd, thank you guys so freaking much, seeing that just made my day, I would've popped the wine we have in the fridge but I'm still in huge amounts of arm pain so I just celebrated with a butt ton of cherry cola. THANK YOU! SO MUCH! For being awesome. 
> 
> As always if you wanna talk and discuss trikey, hit me up on my Instagram, or if you wanna see fanart or just wanna see how much of a derpy moron I am, don't be shy.  
> Again I'm always way more frightened of you so, you know. 
> 
> And as for those wondering how old I am now, my ass is 22. I already consider myself a failure for not marrying a stripper and finding a psychotic best friend by this time. 
> 
> Okay, Imma go, any spelling errors I apologize for, at this point, I'm putting them down to site errors since I have gone through every tiny bit and yet somehow things I've fixed are coming out worse than before. So yeah, that too. 
> 
> Remember to comment, leave kudos and tell me what you wanna read after this fic is over, I look forward to your suggestions. 
> 
> This has been Levi and I will see you, in the next installment, Buh bye!

The center bay of the parking lot is illuminated in the heavenly golden orange hue of a tall street light hovering above, the soft vibrant glow creates a tunnel through the Boston fog shrouding the hospital in perpetual darkness which staff and visitors struggle to hastily dodge as they retreat to and from their vehicles.

The noxious hum of ambulance doors being flung open and shut as paramedics and doctors alike rush stretchers harbouring the dying across the concrete into the adjacent ER wing bombards the air in a catastrophe of white noise as concerned relatives hang back clutching themselves in disbelief and self-pitying guilt, their muffled wails and desperate, empty bursts of “I love you” drowned out amongst the orders of the head practitioners. 

Between treating the unfortunate souls caught in the days earlier multi-car pile up and a mass gangland shooting in the southern office plaza some blocks away coming to a grisly end less than 57 minutes ago, almost every single living being, and partially living being has been absent to his presence on the surrounding stone wall opposite the hospital's staff kitchen, observing them from the far end of the delivery area.

Michael has his back and shoulders casually pressed against the wall, the smoldering butt of a Redwood cigarette pinched between his first and second finger as he gives a curt nod to the exhausted nurses passing him on their stagger to bring another supportive hand to the carnage taking place before him. 

He waits, indulges one last drag, inhaling the smooth poison into the farthest depth of his lungs and then drops the tiny brown stump and proceeding to use the toe of his loafer to grind it to small yellow embers as he mimics the actions of a Bull and exhales smoke through both nostrils. 

“Man, definitely gonna miss that” Michael sighs, head craning to bask in the afterglow of what he tells himself is his last cigarette, least for the next 18 years. 

“Miss what?” His eyes follow the verbal interruption to his goodbye ceremony and home in on the face of a younger male clad in a medical gown and hat, underneath are the unmistakable legs of pee stained jeans as he walks up and leans into the wall next to Michael, ripping the cloth from his hair and heaving a sigh, sight dropping to the carton of cigarettes in his left hand. 

Nonchalantly Michael raises the hand clutching the box of cigarettes to eye level and rattles the contents as an example. 

“Them doctors scare-mongered you, ah? Preached all that clean livin' nonsense, fresh air, do it for the kid's bullcrap” The man gives an exasperated scoff as if he's encountered this random scenario so much throughout his life that to view it now simply brings nothing but a close minded lack of sensitivity. 

Michael looks at him, finding an essence of the man he once was inside his neighbor, the eerie similarity causes a wave of guilt riddles unease to flood his chest. 

“Possibly, or my wife threatened my ass with divorce papers if I didn't quit” The two men share a laugh and the carton of cigarettes exchanges hands, the younger grinning a set of dull white teeth in appreciation as Mike whips out his flip lighter, putting a flame under the end of the rolled tobacco and waiting for it to catch. 

The guy leans back as the paper begins to burn, expelling a combination of a moan and a deep contented sigh as the velvet smoke warms his senses. 

“Smoothe. Can see how people get addicted to 'um” He says, closing his eyes and relishing the taste. 

“Yep. But if givin' up means the family get off my back, so be it. I can always find somethin' else to occupy my time” Michael nods, crossing his arms as he checks the time on his watch and begins to wonder how long are he is going to be forced to wait out in the bitter cold for someone to arrive with the cargo. 

“Sometimes family are the reason you start smoking, you know, first the whole marriage thing and the in-laws, then it gets topped off with the little ones and then you wake up having burnt through four packs in one sitting all because you didn't get the right car seat for junior—Sorry, rough day” The other trails off into a mini-tirade, stopping himself when he sees Michael quirk an eyebrow. 

“I can see that” M replies before gesturing at his bloodied attire. “Did junior have an accident or you come out here hopin' to bump into a good lawyer?”

“I wish” the confession even has Michael taken aback. “My wife's having twins. Just needed a breather” 

“Surprised she let you outta the room. When Manda was havin' our daughter she handcuffed me to the IV stand” The fat male tells him.

“Cute name, but uh-more importantly, where'd she get handcuffs?” The stranger asks. 

“No fuckin' clue” He responds.

Calmly Michael retrieves a flask from his jacket and unscrews the top, chugging it back as they stand there in silence, the stranger nursing his cigarette whilst they take a break from being social to each other. 

As Michael peers on he locks onto a slow moving figure on the other side of the staff kitchen window, they are a rather short yet chubby woman attempting to make herself taller with impossibly high leopard print heels that have her feet visibly straining to keep the rest of her upright, in her arms is a carry seat with a Snoopy patterned blanket draped over the front of it, behind a pair of thick yellow rimmed glasses she appears nervous, constantly looking around herself and surveying everyone within a foot's distance as she trots to the loading entrance where trucks are hurrying to deliver and stack the next mornings produce. 

“Mr. Richards?” A nasal woman's voice echoes into the night. “Mr. Richards?” 

Michael shoves the flask back inside the confines of his jacket and all but darts towards the mysterious woman, making long strides across the narrow alley-like stretch to reach her and the cargo. 

“Package for S.F Richards?” He whispers, wanting to shift the blanket just a little to check over the fragile delivery he was about to be swiftly moving back to Los Santos. 

The woman nods her head and passes him an envelope “Here are the papers you will need to accompany this transaction, please inform the client that they are required to sign them accordingly and return them to our headquarters once they have been filled out. I hope the client is happy with how we have handled the dispatch of their package” 

Michael fights the urge to smile however such is evident in his words. “I'm sure he will be very happy” 

Without saying anything else the woman hands him the bundle and retreats inside, hiding her face as she spots the bloodied man on the wall lighting another cigarette. 

Michael then turns on his heels and walks down the rest of the narrow bay, he disappears into a short-cut meant to guide those who know about it back to the parking lot and lower entry level of the hospital and scuttles to his rental car before popping the keys and pressing hard on the unlock button. 

Lowering the bundle onto the back seat he watches as it stirs, arms and legs weakly failing in an oversized teddy bear jumpsuit supposed to be worn by infants twice it's own age. 

He tries to ignore the fatherly instinct to soothe the sputtering infant as it lays in its car seat with no idea as to where it's going or what is going on around it, Michael uses his fingers to move away some of the blanket hiding it's scrunched face and brings his knuckle close to stroke the baby's cheek. 

Already he feels himself falling in love with the infant despite his best effort not to do so, much as he curses himself for becoming so soft, the thought of coming home with the promise he made to his partner is worth the self-ridicule, and casting a glance at the document envelope, he is immediately informed the child is a girl, and in an instant his heart melts as her eyes crack open, vibrant blue orbs stare up at him as Michael leans over to start buckling the seat up, doing as Amanda suggested and throwing a spare blanket he brought with him for the trip over the baby so the seat belt won't cause any marks or hurt them. 

As the crying persists his rests a hand on her head and starts shushing the child, running a thumb over the cotton hat the social worker has placed on her to keep her warm and after a moment she begins to settle, he swears that despite her age of 16 hours, she's just smiled at him, or that could be gas, considering the knowledge that newborns are full of nothing but air and the consistent need to eat, sleep and shit. 

“You ready to go, Sweetheart?” The infant doesn't reply to his question, she just meekly nuzzles into his palm and cooes which sends Michael need to reminisce straight back to the snowy morning he and Amanda were able to take Tracey home to their trailer park, the way she cried unless he was nearby, the fact that she was so small yet always kept a tight grip on her daddy's finger so he couldn't leave her, the pictures making themselves present behind his are harder to bear now Tracey is an adult, now she's left to live her own life and prefers her step-father/uncle to him.  
Selfishly, some part of Michael hopes this will be different.  
\----

Strapping himself into the driver's chair, Michael looks into the rear view mirror and is relieved to see the baby, his daughter, resting peacefully in her seat, head nestled against his jacket which he's folded up and tucked safely underneath the padding before resting her on it. 

Turning on the ignition he pauses and docks his phone into the dashboard, punching out a quick text before sending it, switching the phone off and driving into the busy late night traffic. 

_“Missed the last plane outta here, called Solomon and he's got a private jet arranged to pick us up in the A.M, I should be home by lunch. Be good and no meth parties. Love you, M”_

Stuck behind a red light, Michael sees he has a new message, reading it, he decides to reply once he gets back to the hotel. 

_Trevor: “Who th fuk is us?”_

(To be continued)


	2. Memories And Rebellion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the past explains just how long Trevor's wanted to be a dad, and the reason behind Michael's strange chest scar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is here, woooo! *throws confetti* Sorry, just thought I'd celebrate, but, yes, chapter two is here and so is a very very strong pain in my arm after writing the best part of four pages in three hours, ouchie, my best has been two pages in one and a half hours so this was a biiiiiiggg push and now I'm paying for it, but, worth it because now we have one more chapter to go until this fic is completed and I go back to updating my older fics that have been on a bit of a break for the last few months, my bad. 
> 
> Right now, all I wanna say is thank you for the support and I hope you have a great week and are recovering well from Christmas cus we all know a big number of us are still coming down from all the sugar and turkey and christmas trikey feels. 
> 
> Thats about it, I'mma finish up posting and I will see you guys later. Byeeee.

_“Aghh! Hey, go easy with those things, man” Townley grits through his teeth, knuckles entangled within the sheets of their motel bed as he patiently sits and allows the younger thief to pick the shotgun debrie from his blood splattered flesh._

_“I got a chest fulla shrapnel, you proddin' like that's just gonna drive 'um deeper. Gonna need a magnet to pull 'um out at this rate”_

_His long haired associate gives a thoughtful hum in response, clicking the fine eyebrow tweezers reassuringly whilst he surveys the minefield design decorating the larger one's upper torso._

_“Quit yer blubberin', Porkchop. From what I can see, the top layer of skin's the only bitta yah with metal in it, if anythin' had gone beyond that, you'd feel it, like havin' a worm under yer skin, you know it's there and longer the fucker hangs around, the worse it's probably gonna be when you try takin' it out. Trust T when he says he's got this, now hold your breath cus this is where it gets nasty”_

_There is no 'On the count of three' as the mullet owning Trevor Philips immediately hones in on the bottom half of the bullet shell sticking out mere inches underneath his friends left breast, there is an alerted yelp from the other as he clamps the tweezers around it and swiftly yanks his arm back, ripping away the bronze casing before shoving his free hand over the open wound, applying pressure with an alcohol soaked rag that stings like a mother fucker as it touches the raw patch of skin._

_Michael lets out a noise that a combination of a guttural scream and a tortured yell, He can feel the bones in his hand crunching together from the amount of pressure he uses to ball it into a fist, he never expected this to hurt so much, nor did he imagine Trevor being this skilled in removing the shattered bullet in the first place._

_“Ain't she a beauty” His buddy holds the split case up against the light “Hooooweee, you got lucky, Mikey. If that old man knew what he was doin', you'd be six feet under right about now. Would'a bled out in no time”_

_“That's real comfortin', Trev” Michael puts his attention on the half empty bottle of bourbon on the far side of the bedroom, lying atop his one good pair of slacks and white button down, the outfit he always has on hand should the bank job they pull require some inside scouting before he and the boys even dare think about hitting the place, nobody suspects you if you look like one of them._

_“I'm just sayin'. Wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't squared up to that doddery prick. I wanted to cap 'um through the head but nuuuuuu, Michael Townley believes in talkin' with his fists and blah blah blah blah-”_

_It takes a few moments of careful plucking at the minor bits of shrapnel before T's able to blot a second dose of alcohol across his friends chest, wanting to ensure healing without running the risk of pushing anything out of sight and where it has the possibility to fester and rust, in some ways, being in the airforce taught him something extremely useful._

_“Ohh, looks like we found the last piece, hold on tight” The other's voice drifts over his ears like a silent wind, Mike once more clings to the sheets and grinds his jaw as T pulls out the second half of the shell, expelling a victorious chortle as the patient sits and thinks about downing the rest of the bottle, numbing himself into what will hopefully be a hearty slumber that sees him well rested for tomorrow's activities._

_Feeling a little lighter, Michael flops back onto the mattress with a pained hiss, he waits for Trevor to stop admiring the glossy fragments he's extracted from Michael's body and actually give enough shits to grab some bandages from his love fist rucksack and wrap the guy up before they settle for the evening._

_About twenty minutes later he does, having put all the pieces of the bullet into a drinking glass and examined them to the point Michael is sure they'll have to go back to the ranch where the incident took place and steal the fucking gun for there to be anything else for Trevor to fucking gawk at._

_His chest now firmly wrapped to a point where he appears oddly shaped in the upper region of his body, Michael edges himself under the covers and waits for Trevor to climb in so they can divide the blanket between them._

_Stripping down to the bare minimum, T sinks in until he is shoulder to shoulder with his running buddy, shaking off the frozen midnight breeze coming through the cracks in the motel door he presses into his friend and starts tugging at the covers gesturing for Michael to either huddle closer or offer more of them to the half naked thief._

_“I thought we agreed if you were gonna do that you'd keep your pants on” Michael says flatly, inching his ass away from the thin material hugging T's crotch._

_“Body heat, sugartits, the best method to heating things up” The lankier one counters, motioning his eyebrows in the same perverted way he does with almost every living being within a foot's distance._

_“Yeah, heat things up, not get your fucking dick wet. Put some pants on or keep to your own side. And I swear to fuckin' god if you turn yourself into a burrito again I will stick my foot so far up your ass the next six generations of Trevor kin will feel it”_

_With a dissatisfied grumble, Philips slips halfway out of bed and struggles to loosely dress his lower torso in some torn shorts before pulling his legs back under the blanket._

_“Happy?”_

_“Fuckin' ecstatic”_

_Knowing his ass is safe from any intrusion, Michael allows T to throw an arm around his waist as he wriggles back some into the crotch of his shorts, silently thankful for the barrier between them and the extra warmth shielding the men from the bitter cold Canadian weather._

_They lay in each other's awkward embrace for some time, Michael kept awake by the eerie winds blowing tree branches into the motel window, creating a strange sort of tapping scrape against the glass, while Trevor thinks about the idea of having “Kin” to carry on his legacy._

_The notion is ironic, someone as dysfunctional and wayward and rebellious as himself able to commit long term to start a generation in his name, to make a comfortable living situation for him and his partner, whoever they may be, and begin acting as decent members of society by investing in a small house then moving up the property ladder as their family grows to the point they're right back at point B, wishing to downsize because the last of their spawn has left for college and even with them returning for the holidays, they still won't need as much room as they did before._

_The image Trevor builds in his mind is humorous, or it would be if the person greeting him home from a long day of work or cooking his meals or kissing him goodnight and handing him his night cap and pajamas wasn't the same lying right next to him at this very moment._

_He doesn't want to ask that question, not right now, or perhaps ever, why ruin what they have over a topic thrown at him under the guise of a threat, it means nothing, and it will always mean nothing._

_There will be no sixth generation, hell, Trevor and his younger brother Ryan will be lucky to make it through this one._

_“Mike?” His voice is so quiet, Townley almost lets it pass as a pitched scratch on the glass._

_“You can't sleep either?” He assumes the other's hand on his shoulder is to jar him into consciousness, to proposition him to join Trevor's sleepless night and go to the club or make a journey to the nearest gas station for a meal consisting of chips, various candy bars, and questionable meat products._

_Trevor doesn't reply, seeing the man is just as awake as he is, causes him to retract his hand and stuff it in the pillow wedged between them, he hasn't counted on Michael actually stirring._

_“What's up?” The fatter male peeks over his shoulder, noticing his friend's sheepish expression._

_He turns over, lifting the covers as not to pull any away from T. “Hey, what's the matter? talk to me”_

_Trevor opens his mouth, only to close it as he burrows down into the chunky lump of features and cotton._

_“Do you think I'll make a good dad?” The question drags itself from his lips like a zombie trying to crawl out of wet cement._

_“What?”_

_“Do you think I'll make a good dad?” He repeats. “Your whole bootin' me up the ass thing got me thinkin' about it”_

_A grin accompanied by a short chuckle pierces the heavy atmosphere enveloping the bedroom, Michael looks at him, eyes bright yet tired, finding hilarity in the thought of his best friend being kept up into the late hours of the night by something so minescule as to whether or not he'll be a good father when the time comes._

_He claps a hand on Trevor's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly._

_“Fuck no”_

_The younger's face falls._

_“T, you and I both know you ain't cut out for takin' care'a people, you can barely take care'a yourself” Realising the sadness behind his friend's eyes, Michael removes the pillow and shifts until their elbows are touching._

_Exhaling a sigh, Michael tries to make light of what he's saying._

_“What do you wanna be tied down for, anyways? A kid just....creates problems, it's like havin' an anchor tied to yeh, can't go nowhere cus wherever you do go, it's gotta come too, and eventually you're so fuckin' tired of lugging that thing around you just...stop, too tired to do anything, or go anywhere else cus you got that thing just weighin' you down. You don't need a kid weighing you down, Trevor. Neither of us do, it's you an me, remember? Two friends on the open road, takin' scores and never lettin' the dirt settle under our fee---”_

_In a split second, Trevor clasps a hand to the back of his neck and lunges forward to capture Michael's lips in a dry, chapped kiss that leaves him rooted on the spot, unable to move until his friend weaves his fingers into the others messy brown hair, trying to deepen the kiss by prying his mouth open._

_Michael recoils, pushing a hand between them and staring at his friend like he's just shot a puppy point blank in the face and stepped on its brothers and sisters in the meantime._

_His chest rises and falls at an uneven pace as Mike considers his options._

_Without saying another word he gets up off the bed and heads straight for the bourbon nestled on the pile of clothes._

_Michael then snatches it and pops the top before gulping back a large swig of the dark liquid._

_“Mike--”_

_“I'm gonna head out for a bit, take the car and see if I can track down a gas station near here....I'll be back. Just...get some sleep, by the time you wake up I'll have somethin' for us to eat. Some food might help you think straight”_

_“I-I'm sorry”_

_Getting his clothes on as quickly as possible, Michael heads out for the door, opening it and stepping out into the snow he can't help but look back at the narrow double bed with the man sat hugging himself amongst the pillows._

_“I know”_  
\-----

“What the fuck is that?!” Trevor Philips bellows as he rounds the staircase, meeting his partner at the front door to see the pastel carrycot and bag of small plush toys and baby items propped against the wall as Michael stands there bewildered at the man's reaction to receiving his surprise. 

“That-that's your daughter” The older male stutters, caught off guard by his outburst as T leans forward to stare him down with a scolding gaze that could melt the entirety of Antarctica and the creatures inhabiting it. 

“Yeah I know, Solomon called to check you'd made it home, he was kinda shocked I knew nothin' about your little plan to fly to Boston to collect this little brat. Strange considerin' the fact I'M YOUR FUCKIN' HUSBAND” 

The infant begins to wail, frightened by the intensity of Trevor's screams and his general hostility, she curls in on herself and Michael is forced to carry her into the living room where Franklin and Lamar are watching the chaos ensue from the white leather couch, they look on as he places the carrycot down on the coffee table and lifts the baby out, hugging her close to him as he bounces from foot to foot trying to soothe her. 

Trevor is right on his heels, marching after them in a blind fury as he continues to holler and flail his arms wildly. 

“It was gonna be a surprise, T. You know I wouldn't keep anythin' from you unless-” 

“Unless you planned to fake your death and abandon me for ten years, yeah, real fuckin' smart idea to pull the same shit now and leave me wonderin' if you were even gonna come back, let alone with this loud mouthed shit” Trevor spits, gesturing at the infant as his anger begins to condense. 

“Trevor, for fuck sake, how many times do I have to say I'm sorry?! Christ, we have a baby, you can't hold this grudge against me forever, especially now” Michael is straining to keep himself together, bouncing the infant while his partner matches her tone and heaves insults at him all because he made one tiny white lie on the behalf of wanting to give Trevor everything he ever wanted. 

“Fuckin' watch me” Michael has to take a step back, the way he comes close and growls dangerously in his ear rattles the man to his very core, so much that he is afraid of what Trevor will do if left alone with their child. 

“I did this for you. I went through all of this bullshit to give you the family you wanted. I could've been arrested at the airport for smuggling a kid through customs, for crying out load, T” He turns to Franklin and Lamar, praying they can extinguish the situation before the flames expand and take the house down around them, Michael did not expect him to be this upset, Trevor knew of the trip, only difference is that instead of going to meet clients about a film, Michael was going to hide outside of a hospital kitchen and wait for a shifty social worker to come out with a baby and hand him an envelope making Trevor it's legal parent. One tiny difference, it isn't as if he just boarded a plane and left without a single hint as to where he was going or when he would return, Michael understood his husband's anxieties about him leaving, he vowed the day they were married to never do that to him ever again. 

“Homies, Homies” Lamar rises off the couch, arms in the air. “Why don't cha'll just take a minute to think about this” 

“What is there to think about?!” Trevor snaps. “He lied. Ain't much else to say bout that” 

“Yeah but, he said he was goin' away for a little while” Franklin chimes in. “That part be true” 

Trevor hunches over himself and cranes his neck to glare at the two gangbangers, offended at their attempt to help. 

The former meth head is a terrifying sight to behold, the way he holds himself up, arms at his sights with teeth bared and back arched, ready to pounce on those who dare stand against him or try to explain away his fears, he makes any sort of pre-historic entity appear fluffier and sweeter than any bunny as he moves towards them. 

“Chu know what” Lamar adds “Now I think about, what chu did, Mike, was pretty dumb” 

“Dude! We're tryin' to help him, stop crisscrossin' with cho bitch ass” A slap upside the head from Franklin has him sitting back down, letting the family argue it out for themselves. 

Trevor's eyes turn back to his lover who is still cradling the hysterical infant as she wails from the earlier roar of the jet they had to ride to get home, the blaring music of the taxi she was shaken around in on the way to the mansion and now with the deafening boom of her adopted father's yells it has all become too much, yet she is so fragile that all the baby can do is sob and wait for Michael to do something about this. 

“You're pissed, I understand, me flying off to Boston didn't help with your anxiety and I'm sorry, but if I'd brought you along to the meeting's her mother might've reconsidered giving her up, but I told her everythin' about you, despite leaving out some of the obvious that nobody needs to go into, but she knew how much you wanted to become a dad and how much love you had to give and how fuckin' lucky this kid would be to be raised by someone like you, but if she saw you, T, with all your scars and tattoos, Trev....she might not've wanted to give us the baby. I'm sorry but this was the only way, but it doesn't matter anymore” Michael forces a smile on his face, despite the howling baby and the nervous glances from Franklin and Lamar, he tries to make the best of what they have right now. 

But all Trevor can hear are the worst pieces and instead of letting everyone see his face fall the way it did that night at the motel in Yankton all those years ago, he turns and marches up the stairs toward his bedroom where he locks the door and throws himself down, the rage giving way to unfathomable sorrow, his mind caving in on itself as he begins to cry on the floor clutching himself just as he did back then while still hearing the sobs of his newborn daughter coming from downstairs. 

(To be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment, kudos and leave advice on how to better my fics. 
> 
> If you wanna talk about trikey or just hit me up in general, my instagram is Nervousnervouslevi. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thats about it so I will see you...in the next installment! Buh-bye!


End file.
